A giggle slips from my lips. Maybe it’s the tequila or my decision to say “fuck it” to what everyone else thinks. But I grin because I like the idea of Max ripping off my clothes. Or I like it in theory. In reality, it would mean he’d see me and all my imperfections, and that wouldn’t end well.
“You don’t even know what I look like naked,” I protest. “I’m pretty sure if I’d ever let you get me naked, you wouldn’t be saying that now.”
“Tell yourself what you must, Han.” He drags a hand through his dark hair. God. He’s so flipping gorgeous. Why do I have to be attracted to men who are so completely out of my league?
“Lemme prove it to you.”
Stepping toward him, I tug my shirt off over my head and toss it to the floor. His lips part and his breath escapes in a rush. Before my brain can catch up with my hands, I kick off my shoes and unbutton my jeans, shoving them down my hips.
The months we were together—really together, not this pretend we’ve been playing since the texts—I hid myself from him. I was so terrified that if he saw all my dimples and soft spots, cellulite and imperfections, he would lose all interest.
But now what do I have to lose? He needs to see me as I really am.
“Hanna,” he whispers, his eyes running over me. “What are you doing?”
“I’m proving that you aren’t attracted to me. Not the real me, at least.” I unhook my black bra, and I hear the hiss of his inhale as I let it slide from my shoulders. Next, I remove my underwear and kick it to the side.
My heart slams as I finally force myself to lift my head and meet his gaze, and I’m shocked by the heat I see there, the desire.
“Is that real?” I whisper. “I want to believe you’re not pretending. I want to believe…”
He closes his eyes for two thuds of my heart, and when he opens them, he steps closer. “I couldn’t fake this if I wanted to.”
“Make love to me, Max. Have sex with me. I want to believe. Make me believe.”
“Hanna,” he breathes. He steps closer, pulls my body against his—my bare flesh against his denim-and-cotton-clad heat—and buries his nose in my hair. He leans in, brushes kisses along my jaw, and lets his mouth hover just above my ear.
“You standing here naked and begging me to fuck you,” he whispers, his hands skimming up my bare sides and sending shivers of pleasure through me. “You have no idea what that does to me. I want it as much as you do. More. But I won’t. Not while you’re drunk and not while you’re pretending my ring doesn’t belong on your finger.”
I stumble back. “Really? Because that just sounds like a convenient excuse.”
“Try me. Come back here sober and test me, Hanna.”
“Well, isn’t this…cozy.”
I spin around to see Meredith standing at the door, baby in her arms, and for a minute, I’m so caught off guard by her appearance, so blown over by my hatred for her, that I forget that I’m standing here completely nude.
Max steps in front of me to block me from her view. “Meredith, give us a minute.”
“Nobody wants to see that anyway,” Meredith sneers as she backs onto the deck.
Max pushes the door closed behind her and turns to me. “I’m sorry. This is terrible timing. I just…”
I scramble to gather my clothes. Tears burn the backs of my eyes. “I was so stupid. So, so stupid.” With shaking hands, I fumble with the clasp on my bra then reach for my shirt.
“The truth is,” Max says, “we need to talk.”
“No, we don’t.” I shake my head as I shove my feet into my jeans. Fuck, fuck, fuck. What was I thinking? He’s not mine anymore. I broke it off. So of course he’s with Meredith now. “You want her. You can have her.”
He grabs my hand. “Stop. Please?”
There’s something in his voice that makes me lift my eyes to his. “Don’t lie to me. I can’t handle another lie.”
He drags a hand through his hair. “This isn’t how I wanted to tell you.”
My stomach folds in on itself and I double over. “Tell me what?”
“Meredith and I aren’t together. You’re the only one I want.” He stares at me, as if willing me to believe his words. “She’s here to drop off the baby.”